


we can be runaways

by howaboutbucky



Series: (South) India Has An Avengers [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, india au, kollywood au, the sort of mr and mrs smith au no one asked for, tollywood au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 02:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15939485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howaboutbucky/pseuds/howaboutbucky
Summary: if you want, we can be runaways,running from any sight of love- rihannaIn which the bird meets a spider.Collection of one-shots based on (south) India recast of the mcu.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwearplaids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwearplaids/gifts).



> This one is for @iwearplaids for writing her stupid fic, because then I had to write a stupid fic. Also based off this [post](http://howaboutbucky.tumblr.com/post/177239605635/south-india-has-an-avengers-hawkeye-black)

The first time he saw her was at a briefing, though saying he had saw her was an over exaggeration. The Director had been pointing out different things on a screen behind him as he led the debrief. Yet, his eyes were focused elsewhere as he intently balanced one of his arrows on the tip of his finger. His watched as the arrow wavered in the air his hand flitting here and there as not to drop it.

 _"Dei_ ,” the director snapped, slamming his hands on the desk, “Have I made myself clear?”

He let the arrow fall, narrowly catching it and looking up at The Director’s eyes, or rather his one good eye. His eyes flitted to the pictures on the screen. They depicted dead bodies and a case file detailing what little information was known about his next target. A blurry, barely discernible, black and white, surveillance picture accompanied. His target had disarmed the camera before it could do any damage and not even Stark’s technology had been able to help. The target was a woman that much was obvious. She was good at what she did, and that was the problem. They called her the Black Widow because she left no survivors, leaving a trail of bodies from Kerala to Shanghai.

“You want me to find her,” he mimicked back and used the arrow to point at the picture, “and take her down. Global threat, the end of the world… Did I leave anything out?”

The Director scrutinised him, “Our sources,” he said nodding at a young woman that was sitting in the corner, “have tipped us about her next location...”

He turned to look at ‘The Source’, Agent 13, was what they called her at the agency. She had square glasses perched on her nose, and was wearing a simple _kameez_ with jeans, and didn’t look to be much… but then they never did, did they? However, her features were familiar to him and he thought that maybe they had known each other in a previous life.

Agent 13 stood up and an image of twin buildings appeared on the screen behind her, “I have received Intel that the so-called Black Widow has been seen in Kuala Lumpur cosying up with the rich and wealthy. This man,” an image of a wealthy looking man appeared on screen, “Is most likely her next victim.”

“And you want me to, what, put a stop to that,” Clint asked.

“ _I_ want you to put an end to _her_ ,” The Director interrupted, “Pack what you need,” he ordered, “You’ll be leaving to Malaysia at 2300 hours…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Dei_** = dude/hey boy/hey man.
> 
>  
> 
> _So, I hope you enjoyed reading this, comment and leave a kudos_


	2. Chapter 2

The next time he saw her was twenty-four hours after his mission had been assigned. He was lounging in a ***** _Nasi Kandar_ restaurant, sunglasses perched on his nose, wearing civilians clothing. He glanced down at his plate, of what the waiter had promised would be a delicious breakfast. It was called a ***** _Roti Canai_ and had been served with a bowl of bright yellow ***** _dal_ that had a spot of red _sambal_ in it _._ From what he could tell the _roti_ was the Malaysian version of _parotta_ but was different in texture, but that had not stopped him from eating it.

Inconspicuously he glanced around the restaurant taking in the groups of people that were eating before work started for them. He glanced at the cashier where the man behind the counter switched yelled at one of the cooks in Tamil, before switching to perfect Mandarin as a Chinese woman approached him.

The multicultural aspect of Malaysia wasn’t new, what was, was the way that these Tamilians spoke Tamil. It was a bizarre blending of a Tamil, which was oddly archaic, with the local languages. But the noise was getting to him; it was too loud, the noises that surrounded him amplified to a painful level due to his hearing aids. He turned them off with his free hand and focused his gaze across the road.

He hadn’t chosen this restaurant because of the food, but because of the view. The restaurant’s open concept allowed him to watch the main road, which lead to a rather wealthy guarded housing area. It was mildly busy with traffic and nothing like Mumbai. He only had to wait a few minutes longer before right on cue she went striding by. It took a minute to recognise her, but there she was, her long curly hair swept to one side, as she strode down the road. She was dressed in a tight-fitting black dress and talking on the phone, her face pinched into a serious expression. Even from a distance, just viewing her profile, he could tell that she was beautiful. Beautiful. Confidant. A killer.

A hand was on his shoulder jerking his gaze away. He turned just in time to see the boy's mouth form the words, ***** “ _Anay,_ _sappadu eppaṭi?”_

Clint could see the way he was eyeing his hearing aid, he ignored the look answering with a tight smile, ***** “ _Super, matcha!”_ But by the time Clint had looked across the road, she was gone.

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Nasi Kandar**_ = Indian-Malaysian food/restaurant was was popularized by Indian Muslim traders from India.  
>  ** _Roti Canai_** = An Indian-influenced flatbread found in Malaysia, usually eaten as a breakfast, similar to the kerala (malabar) parotta.  
>  ** _Dal_** = A lentil sauce served with rice or roti.  
>  ** _Sambal_** = Sambal is a hot sauce typically made from a mixture of a variety of chilli peppers with secondary ingredients such as shrimp paste, fish sauce, garlic, ginger, shallot, scallion, palm sugar, lime juice, and rice vinegar or other vinegar.  
>  ** _Anay, sappadu eppaṭi?_** = Brother, how is the food?  
>  ** _Super, matcha!_** = Matcha is a term that means brother-in-law, but can also be used affectionately to address another person.
> 
> _Anyone notice how I did what Marvel could never do, and actually acknowledged Clint’s deafness? Because I did! And I am not bitter about this!_


	3. Chapter 3

The third time he saw her was at an event. He had chosen to perch on the second floor of the building, leaning on the railing and eyeing the ground floor. Their intel had promised that she would be here, but they had made that promise multiple times before and each time she had somehow evaded him. He swept his hand through his hair, wondering if he had been compromised.

Desperately his eyes swept through the crowds below that had gathered around a makeshift stage when he spotted her. It was hard to tell from this angle, but it was definitely her. She was dressed differently wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a green jacket over it. Her hair was different, cropped to a shoulder-length, wavy, with an orangey red hue instead of the black it had been.

But none of that mattered as she looked up… at him, exactly at him; there was no question about it. A smirk played on her lips. He stared horrified as she winked at him, pulling out a gun and aimed at him. Before he could react gunshot was resounding through the air.

He fell backwards, clutching his chest, his ears ringing from the sharp noise. But as he looked down at himself, taking inventory for the bullet hole, but found none. The bullet wasn’t meant for him, he realised, and as he peered over the railing, not was it her gun that had gone off he realised. There was a dead man on the floor and people were scrambling over each other to escape, including the elusive Black Widow. She was clutching her side, and even from here he could see the large blood stain that seeped into her clothes. There was another shooter present and he had shot someone to get her, actually, he had shot _through_ someone to get to her. 

“ _Nammalla panni paalli_ _,”_ he cursed.

Disorientated, he looked around; someone was trying to kill her, someone that wasn’t him. Looking up he caught sight of a figure clothed in black with a large suitcase quickly moving away from the railing on the floor above him. He was running before he knew what was happening. However, the chaos of the gunshot had the crowds attempting to flee in a chaotic mass. By the time he reached the floor above him, the shooter was gone. He looked around the crowded halls for any hint until he spotted a sign for the roof access.

Bursting through the roof doors the bright sunlight blinded him, but he caught sight of the figure. Without thinking, he was running and tackling the person to the ground from behind. They both fell in a flurry of limbs and he barely managed to avoid a punch only to be kicked as the man threw Barton’s weight off him. He preferred fighting with his bow from a distance, but he was apt enough at hand-to-hand combat. After a bit of a work, he managed to pin the guy to the floor, and throw in a few punches for good measure.

“Whom do you work for?” He demanded in English. The man smiled, blood pouring from his mouth, but didn’t reply.

“ _Aarku veendiya nee ethoke cheynna?”_ he demanded, switching to Malayalam desperately.

The man started laughing now, before becoming extremely serious his eyes glinting darkly, “ _HYDRA ki jai_!” he whispered harshly, before freeing his arm and firing a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Nammalla panni paalli_** = Means something along the lines of We're Screwed (Direct Translation: "Our job is flopping”  
>  ** _Aarku veendiya nee ethoke cheynna_** = Rough translation of who do you work for.  
>  ** _HYDRA ki jai_** = Victory to Hydra


	4. Chapter 4

The next time he saw her, he hadn’t wanted to, and it was that simple. He was sitting at another restaurant, sipping coffee in an attempt to calm his fraying nerves. It didn’t help that he was getting weird glances from those around him.

What could he say he looked like he murdered someone, and maybe he had. He had tried to wipe the blood that was on his face as best as he could, but that did nothing for the stains on his white shirt. He had offered a lie to his waiter about being a painter, but even that sounded hollow, and it didn’t account for his shaking fingers. Even after working at the agency after all these years, and having attempted a brief moment of vigilante justice before that, he hated killing. Especially when the person dying was blowing their own brains with their own bullet at such close proximity to his face.

He pulled out his phone, looking at the missed calls from The Director. He would have to call in and give an update on the mission and he was dreading it. Things had managed to go to shit so smoothly. He had been staring so intently at his phone that he hadn’t managed to hear the chair across from him move, or maybe that was how good she was. When he finally looked back, he barely managed to not flinch, because there she was.

She sat her head tipped to the side as she watched him, before picking up a glass of coffee, which he barely noticed was his, and took a sip. There was something predatorily about the way she sat silently watching him and it made his skin crawl. He wondered if this was his end. He was calculating his chances, and the majority of them ended with death or someone making scene, none of which sounded good for him.

Finally, she spoke, “Why are you following me?” she asked calmly as if discussing the weather.

He didn’t reply, completely taken aback by her question.

When no response came she swept a hand through her hair and placed the glass of his coffee on the table, “Fine.” She said, “Why are you helping me?”

“I-,” he started confused wondering when he had helped her, “I’m not here to help you.” _I’m here to end you._

“No?” she questioned, and he could tell that she was toying with him, “There’s a dead body at the morgue that begs to differ. Cause of death is still unknown but the gunshot to the head is a good bet.”

“He shot himself,” he admitted, looking away as the memory surfaced. 

She shrugged as if it were all one and the same, and he didn’t know what to say to that, but before he could reply, she fidgeted in her seat, and it was only then that he noticed the fact that there was a dark stain that was blooming on her side.

"You’re bleeding,” he pointed out the obvious, wondering how she was still even functioning after losing all the blood.

She raised an eyebrow at that reply, “So are you.”

“It isn’t mine.”

She tipped her head to the side, raising an eyebrow as if to say, “ _Isn’t it?”_

Before he could process there was a sharp and quick prick on his hand that was resting on the table. He glanced down to see a drop of bright red blood beading on his hand. His head began swimming as he glanced up at her as she fiddled with a ring on her finger, his vision starting to blur.

 _You’re right I am bleeding,_ he thought, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing I'm gonna say is, did anyone notice my nod towards the comic, where Hawkeye is a vigilante before he joins Shield?  
> Also, if you're wondering everything goes black because she has a ring that has a secret thing that injects a poison ala Johnny English.


	5. Chapter 5

He groaned, jerking only to find he couldn’t move. He squinted his eyes as he blearily looked down at himself, only to find that he was tied to the chair that he was sitting in. His hands were tied behind him, he had a makeshift rope around his waist, and she had even gone to the extent to tie his legs to the chair.

He looked around the room, realising that he was in the hotel room that they had put him in. He also realised that there was a steady hum of traffic that could be heard outside, but not a lot, meaning it was the night.

“Name: Clinton Barton, Place of Birth: Kochi,” he heard her say and turned to look behind her where her voice was coming from.

She scoffed, “What type of _saippu_ name is Clinton Barton,” she asked holding his passport in hand.

It was only then that he realised that she was speaking Malayalam. It was perfect without a trace of an accent. From his peripheral vision, he could see her walking closer. She was wearing a black tank top that showed a bulge where she had put a bandage on her gunshot wound. Her tank top that also showcased her arms and he couldn’t help but notice her muscular arms.

“The type of name that my parents gave me,” he replied smoothly, looking around the room for an escape.

“Your parents?” she asked, “And what are their names? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Or maybe you prefer Director Fury?”

He went cold at the realisation that he was compromised, crazy compromised. He whipped his gaze to her, just in time to see her whipping his bow and notching an arrow pointing it at him. There was something about someone else holding his bow and arrow, he didn’t’ like it, he didn’t like it at all, “Put that down,” he said as calmly as possible _._

She held the bow and arrow in place, “Why is S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to kill me?”

He raised an eyebrow at that, and couldn’t help the laughter that came spilling out of his mouth, “Why are they trying to kill you? I don’t know maybe it’s the trail of bodies that follow you. Tokyo, Manila, Perth…” he said naming cities S.H.I.E.L.D. had connected to her,”

“Thiruvananthapuram,” she calmly watching him intently and he froze.

Thiruvananthapuram, it couldn’t be a coincidence that she had said that name. It could be because it was his home city, or it could be the fact that it was his first mission that he had failed. She had just confessed to being there.

He didn’t have time to process that thought though, as he surged to his feet using the moment to tackle her against the wall and pushed a gun from her holster under her chin. While she had been talking he had managed to free his hands and it was only a matter of keeping her busy while he untied the rope around his side. He hadn’t grown up in the circus only to not learn how to get out of difficult situations. With his ankles still attached to the chair, he knew that he was compromised and wouldn’t be able to hold her there much longer.

“Who hired the Black Widow to kill me?” he questioned, “What type of name is Black Widow. It’s like you’re a film star, _The_ _Superstar, Thalapathy_ , _Thala.”_

“ _The Lady Superstar_ ,” she offered.

“ _The Lady Superstar_ ,” he agreed, pushing the gun against her chin, “So _Madam_ _Chilanthi_ , why are you trying to kill me?”

“My agency had informed me that I had appeared on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar, it was either I eliminate the threat, or they eliminate me,” she smirked at him, “They don’t like loose ends. I thought I’d make a vacation out of it.”

It dawned on him then, she hadn’t tried to kill him in the square because she had thought he was getting in the way of her mission, she had planned on killing him all along. He was her target, the businessman had been a cover, and this was a trap.

In one swift movement, she had managed to get out of his grasp and do some other maneuverer that he could barely process and soon he was groaning on the floor, the chair splintered behind him. She stood one foot pressed to his chest, forcing him down, as she screwed her silencer on her gun, before pointing it at him.

He wrapped his arm around her leg and used it to flip her off him and unto the floor, a gunshot being released as the gun went flying through the air. Safely situated above her, with her trapped under his weight, he reared his head back as she threw punches at him.

“What is Hydra,” he managed to splutter, “Why are they sending trained assassins to kill you?”

Instead of answering she wrapped her legs around his back and holding him in place, as she pulled his tie, yanking his head down enough to trap his head under one of her arms. His head trapped under her armpit and his oxygen supply getting low thanks to her vice grip around him.

“That,” she said harshly, “Is way above your pay grade, Robin Hood.”

He struggled to move out of her grip but instead, he wrapped his arm around her legs and used the momentum to rise to his feet, picking them both up. She scrambled in his grip, repositioning herself, and slamming her elbow into his back over and over again. He stumbled back into a table and faltering in the process and they both fell.

He coughed struggling to get off the floor, “Share your intel with us,” he barely managed.

She used a piece of furniture to hoist herself into a sitting position, “Why? So you could use me then kill me,”

He noticed her glancing at her gun and before he knew it he was diving across furniture at her gun, desperately trying to get it before she did. He kneeled on the floor gun pointed and loaded at her, only to find her doing the same with his bow and arrow. They slowly rose, weapons pointed at each other.

He eyed her carefully as he said, “You could help us,” he pleaded his case, “Join our team, find the guy who tried to kill you…”

She smirked, “Not a chance, Robin Hood,” she pulled the arrow back to her ear, “Word to the wise, whoever is after me, that body that’s rotting in the morgue, it’s just the tip of an iceberg.”

She couldn’t be reasoned with he realised, as he clicked the gun, getting ready to shoot and get this hell of a mission over with. But as he watched her, holding his bow and arrow, he realised he couldn’t do it. There was something in her eyes that made him falter.

“I can’t, I can’t do this,” he said, lowering his gun.

But apparently, she could because she sent an arrow flying at him. It barely missed him flying past him and embedding himself in the wall behind him.

He smirked at her, “Told you not to use it,”

Instead, she glowered at him and he could hear the soft beeping noise of a countdown before there was a loud explosion and he was flying across the room due to the proximity. She had activated the explosive in his arrow.

When he came too, he could hear the buildings fire alarm going off, and could feel people asking him if he was okay. There was smoke in the air, and all he could think was _Karthave, he was so screwed!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Saippu_** = White person  
>  ** _The Superstar, Thalapathy, Thala_** = In South India, actors have titles, and these are a few titles of famous actors. ** __**  
>  ** _The Lady Superstar_** = The title of the actress Nayanthara, my Black Widow Fancast. I'm so cool and meta.  
>  ** _Madam Chilanthi_** = Madam - Madam, Chilanthi - Spider, a play at the name Black Widow.  
>  ** _Karthave_** = Jesus


	6. Chapter 6

This was supposed be a simple mission they said. It was a simple extraction, they had promised. Go in; find the weapon that was being shipped into Vancouver, Canada illegally, and return to India. No one had mentioned that the people that had come across the weapon would have alien tech, or that they had a connection, a deeply dangerous connection. He cursed ducking and rolling till he was pressed against a stack of wooden crates, glancing to the side trying to see if anyone was coming for him.

He glanced down at the suitcase that was clutched in his hands, the cause of all of his problems. He didn’t know what was in the case, but he highly doubted that it was worth dying over. He flinched as a series of rounds went off causing the crate that was in front of him to break into smithereens. 

_Karthave_ , weren’t Canadians supposed to be the nice ones? 

“I need back up,” he hissed, trying to not draw attention, as he tried to communicate his back up team.

He tapped his finger to his hearing aid, which had been specially equipped with a comm, “Sharon,” he hissed, cursing as he realised he had mentioned her name.

It was bad form to address people over the comm on a first name basis, seeing their identities would be compromised if someone tapped the line, “Agent 13,” he tried again, “Send back up!”

When no reply came, he cursed leaning in resignation against the crate closing his eyes, and praying to any of the gods that would listen.

“ _Dei_ Robin Hood,” a voice came crackling through the comm, “ _Ithi Ennu_?”

His eyes flew open as that nickname. Well not actually at the nickname, people called him Robin Hood all the time, it came with the territory of having a bow and arrow and wearing a costume. It was her voice that threw him off. It had been months since he had last seen her, and he didn’t think he’d be seeing her again soon.

“What are you doing here,” he hissed into the comm, looking around anxiously aware that he was going to have to move soon, as he heard footsteps approaching.

“Well, I was in the neighbourhood,” she grunted, “Looked like you might need a hand!”

Suddenly, there was a series of gunshots and shouts; he got up getting his bow ready when she appeared beside him. Guns pointed and at the ready. He released a series of arrows, shooting at the various men, and she stood back to back, doing the same with her gun.

He didn’t know how long they stood there fighting back to back, but suddenly there weren’t as many people trying to kill him. She growled as someone came charging at them, reaching into his quiver and pulling out one of his arrows. She pointed it at their assailant, triggering the tear gas feature that had the man falling over as he started coughing. There was a gunshot and he faltered backwards as the bullet hit his leg. He cursed, lifting her arm that had a gun hanging from it, and found the shooter that stood on the other side of the factory, before slipping his finger on top of her's and forcing her to pull the trigger.

He sighed realising that was the last of them. Turning, he turned to look at her, “What are you doing here, _Madam_ _Chilanthi_ ,” he asked, taking in her outfit.

Her hair was up in a ponytail, showing off her face. She was dressed completely in black with a wearing a black turtleneck and black cargo pants. What caught his attention were her shoes, she wasn’t wearing anything as unpractical as heels, but instead, combat boots. If he was being completely honest, he would admit, he liked them. They were sexy. 

“Always, so ungrateful Robin Hood,” she replied shaking her head _, “_ Honestly, I wanted nothing to do with you, but this one-eyed man found me and had some very convincing words and a job offer.”

He chose to ignore the part where she had pretty much told him that she was an agent of shield, which was mind-boggling, to say the least, and instead focused on the part that pertained to him, “Really,” he teased, “You don’t want to have anything to do with me, then why did you save my life?” he asked mimicking her question from all those years ago, talking about the instance now and then.

“You guys pay better,” she replied not meeting his gaze, “Also, if I let you die, humanity would be deprived of your ass,” he smirked at that comment, “And your sarcasm.”

Before he could say anything else, she wrapped an arm around his waist letting him lean his weight against him, “Come on Robin Hood, let’s get out of here, before they send back up.

A few hours later, they were settled in a hotel room awaiting instructions from The Director. She had insisted on taking a shower, and he sat on a couch his leg propped waiting for her and the food. The bell rang, and he hobbled to the door, taking the food from the hotel worker, before noticing the hearing aid and gesturing in sign language.

He closed the door and turned to see her fresh out of the shower, drying her hair as she watched him.

“You know sign language,” she pointed out.

He shrugged, collapsing on the bed next to her, “The hearing aids aren’t a fashion statement,” he replied.

He flinched as his leg seared with pain, and he looked down at his makeshift bandage that was oozing with blood. He cursed, but before he could do anything, she was there giving orders.

He found himself situated on the floor a bunch of towels all over the place. She had his one leg propped over her thighs as she leaned over it with a needle and some thread. His other leg was crossed as he leaned over it, to reach the food that was spread in front of him.

Sharon had mentioned a _Dosa_ House in Vancouver City that was sure to remind him of home. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Western food, it was just the fact that he had been missions overseas for a few weeks now and he missed the local flavours. He ripped a section of the dosa dipping it into Capsicum Chutney before eating it. Sharon hadn’t been wrong this food was heaven sent and he could almost believe that he was back in India.

He felt the tips of her cold and wet hair brushing against his leg, tickling him.

“Stay still,” she hissed, and he obeyed her order, his eyes still focused on the TV as the local news station.

He flinched at she works turning to look at her sharply and cursing. She looked up through a veil of hair smirking at him, “Baby!” she replied, before turning back at his leg, “It’s just a flesh wound.”

He turned back to the TV, feeling more at peace then he had in a really long time. Suddenly, she felt the hairs on his leg being pulled and he turned to look at her angrily.

“ _Dei_!” she asked, “Do your hearing aids even work?”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised as he said, “Sometimes, but never for secret spies who have tried to kill me.”

“Comedy huh,” she replied before narrowing her gaze at him, “ _Macha_ , share your food!”

He looked down at the food that was dwindling dosa, before looking at her hands that were covered in gloves. He then proceeded to tear some dosa dip it in chutney and bring it towards her.

She glared at him, before nonchalantly saying, “More chutney,”

Rolling his eyes at her, he obediently dipped the dosa in back into the chutney, “Such a bossy little _Chilanthi_ ,” he replied feeding it to her and trying to ignore how domestic this was.

When the Director finally called, he was blushing at how strangely intimate everything was, but she didn’t seem to care. They debriefed the mission, and the Director nodded through the screen, asking about the suitcase over and over again.

“Good news Hawkeye, you will be returning to India,” the Director said formerly.

He smiled in relief at the thought of returning home and to his dog. The Director turned and seemed to focus his eyes on her.

“Natasha,” The Director asked, “How was your first mission with your new partner?”

He turned to look at her in confusion at that statement, barely processing what she said as the words partner and Natasha buzzed around in his head. Soon the screen went blank as the Director hang up and he was still staring at her in confusion.

She turned to him raising an eyebrow and hiding a smile as she said nochantly, “Do you think I should have told him this is our second mission?” 

His eyes grew slightly bigger at that mention. When he had said he hadn’t seen her in months he had been lying, it was… a few months. They had bumped into each other in Budapest… and things had… escalated.

“Budapest was not a mission,” he clarified, “You and I remember Budapest very differently!”

She shrugged at him, “Schematics,” before untangling herself from him and getting up.

He hobbled to his feet after her, “So we’re partners?”

“Yes, we are, Strike Team: Delta,” she replied gathering their stuff, “Weren't you paying attention,” she glanced down at his passport snorting at it, “Francis, Hawkeye, who comes up with these names?” she turned to him smiling, “It’s like a Kollywood movie, _Singam, Paambu Sattai, Puli, Paravai Kan.”_

“It’s a cover,” he explained hobbling after her, “And what about you? Black Widow, Tatiana, Marya, _Madam_ _Chilanthi,_ Natasha _._ So many identities it must be hard to keep up,”

She looked up at him, and it was only then that he realised how close they were, “Have you been stalking me Robin Hood?” she asked.

“It’s not stalking,” he replied miffed, “It was surveillance.”

They stood there, standing in each other’s space, eating up each other’s air, and all he could think about was freaking Budapest. Except this was nothing like Budapest, it couldn’t be. 

"Well, Francis, let’s go, we have a plan to catch!” and she said quickly breaking the tension and leading the way out of the room. 

It was later when they were settled in their flight when he had thought that she was asleep, heck he had thought everyone was asleep. So it came as a surprise when her voice broke through the rumble of the plane.

“My name is Neha,” she said, and he turned to her confused, “I was born Neha. But Natasha is the name that chose for myself, one that isn’t tainted,” she looked a bit sad, “A new name for a new me.”

He nodded putting out his hand, looking completely serious, “Well Natasha, my name is,” he paused for a moment, watching as her curiosity peaked, “Clinton Francis Barton,” she stared at him in confusion, until he couldn’t do it any longer, a smile breaking out on his lips.

“ _Po di!_ ” she replied quickly, slapping his hand away.

He laughed at her expression, “Okay, okay,” he said holding up his hands in defence, “My name is Akash,” he said softly, “My real name, it’s not an alias, I promise.”

She stared at him as if waiting for a punch line, but when none came, she nodded, “Nice to meet you Akash” she said as if she wasn’t sure that she believed him.

Then she pulled the armrest that was between them up, “Now, I’m going to sleep,” she announced, tucking herself against him, and using his shoulder as a pillow, “Good night, Robin Hood.”

He looked down at her at her, “Good night, _Madam_ _Chilanthi.”_

They went to sleep their bodies pressed together, unaware of the mysterious suitcase or the eerie blue cube that glowed a haunting blue.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Ithi Ennu_** = What is this?  
>  ** _Singam, Paambu Sattai, Puli_** = Title of Tamil movies that involve animals in their title. Singam = Lion, Paambu Sattai = Snake Skin, Puli = Tiger.  
>  ** _Paravai Kan_** = A rough translation of the name Hawk Eye. Paravai = Bird, Kan = Eye.  
>  ** _Po di_** = Go away  
>   
>  _So, I finished this stupid thing. I suppose I should add a few things. The name Clint Barton is one of his aliases. (Also, Liyaa did you like how I stole the aliases from your fic and made them their real identities?) Also, I'm not going to explain what happened in Budapest, in the vein of the Avengers, but pretty much, that is the reason that this fic is called 'we could be runaways' and based off desperado by Rihanna. The idea is they found each other even though they were still working opposite sides. Also, I changed the Black Widow costume and actually made it functional. Because... logic._


End file.
